Who is Darth Vader?
by Morelenmir
Summary: Being a man formed from clay by rabbis during World War II was no excuse to have not seen Star Wars. Aaron Bass cannot let the opportunity to educate his golem pass. Set after "Everybody Hates Hitler".


It's 5am and this is the product of a sleepless night following an exhausting evening of rehearsal on the heels of a long day. I got nothin'. But I wholeheartedly love the dynamic between Aaron and his golem.

* * *

It was Friday night and for the seventh Friday night in a row, Aaron Bass was doing nothing.

Well, not _nothing_. He did have the measured thud of a golem moving around the perimeter of the small apartment he was renting to occupy him. It was with the dismal air of enforced solitude he washed the pizza sauce off his dinner plate and set it in the dishwasher, shoving the door shut with his sneaker. Aaron stared blankly, glumly, into the empty kitchen.

_Clump. Clump._

For the fifth time that day, he contemplated the chances of actually convincing the golem that he can go out for an evening and evil undead Nazis will _not_ poison him. The train of thought was quickly abandoned; reasoning with animated clay was fruitless. And frustrating. The golem merely stared at him and, without uttering a word, managed to shut Aaron down every freaking time. Besides, even if he could somehow miraculously sneak past the vigilant creature, he was pretty certain it would follow him and ruin any good time Aaron might be able to have.

_Clump. Clump._

Life as a golem's master kind of sucked. That might actually been included in the owner's manual that he smoked—the golem was still giving him shit for that, even after the Winchesters were pretty hard on him—some sort of footnote saying, "By the way, your social life will go to hell once you've inherited this dude made out of clay; that is to say, you will have no life whatsoever." Aaron groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as the golem appeared in the hallway outside the kitchen.

It didn't speak, regarding him from the unlit hall. The breathing was a little stentorian, though.

"You don't have to check on me every time I sneeze, Darth Vader." Aaron didn't bother to disguise his irate, weary tone.

It didn't even do so much as cock its massive head to one side. "You didn't sneeze." Aaron hid his rolling eyes by turning around from his slumped position against the counter and digging out the dish soap from under the sink. "Darth Vader?" the golem added, ridiculously deep voice shifting higher in faint query.

"Y'know," Aaron waved one arm in a vague lightsaber-y motion while he poured the soap into the dishwasher, "Luke I am your father, we will rule the galaxy together, I have you now, et cetera."

A marked silence loomed behind him. He could _feel_ its gaze digging twin potholes in his back. Capping the soap, he leaned back on his haunches and craned his head up, studying the still face of the golem. "Use the Force?"

Not a twitch.

That was it. Aaron nearly tossed the soap into the cabinet and stood, rubbing his hands together importantly. "Friday night can be salvaged," he declared, and the golem's forehead almost wrinkled. With a grin, he pointed at the towering figure in the doorway. "Star Wars is highly educational and cannot be set aside."

He led the way into the living room, golem striding heavily after. It took a minute of hunting before Aaron uncovered the first movie. Gleefully waving _A New Hope_ over his shoulder, he hopped quickly to the DVD player and turned it on. "Oh, and don't think I've forgiven you for the wanton destruction of my entertainment center," he stated as he inserted the disc. Glancing up at the impassive golem, he arched a sardonic eyebrow. "But if you actually enjoy this it could go a long way in your favor."

It regarded him, one eyebrow travelling slightly higher. Aaron snorted, grabbed the remote, and threw himself in one of the two sofas. "Gonna sit down?"

"I have no need to-"

"Yeah, yeah." Aaron hand-waved the reply away. "Just no creepy looming, okay? Siddown," he insisted with a flash of curiosity. The golem made a sound that could've been a snort and stepped around the couch before slowly, cautiously, lowering itself on the opposite end from Aaron.

Aaron really should have seen this coming. Note to self: curiosity is closely related to stupidity.

The sofa made a feeble crunching noise and thumped heavily on the floorboards under the clay man's weight, while the rest of the sofa tilted up enough for Aaron to tumble down its length and smush his face into the golem's bicep. The remote disappeared into the disarrayed cushions when he flattened against the impervious bulk of clay-formed muscle.

"Mrgh."

One large finger pressed gently on his forehead, lifting his pancaked face off of the golem's arm. It peered down at him, apologetic concern in its deep-set eyes.

"Next time," Aaron started, but had to spit cotton shirt out of his mouth before continuing. "Next time, separate couches." It nodded solemnly, and Aaron thought he imagined the slight grin that crooked the corner of its mouth for a hasty second.

"I am not built for this."

"Beanbags might be more your style," Aaron muttered absently to himself, scrabbling off the rearranged sofa. "For now, you just…stay. There." He glanced around for the remote and then dove into the cushions surrounding the golem, muted grumble trailing behind him as he searched. A pleased chortle announced the device's recovery and he reappeared to triumphantly point it at the television. The screen lit up with the yellow crawl as the musical score Aaron had been familiar with since he was a kid began its thunderous notes.

"Aw man, this is gonna be good." He made himself comfortable on the uncrushed couch and grinned across at the golem. "I promise you will like this."

It looked steadily at him, thoughtful eyes narrowing slightly. "We shall see," the golem rumbled, and Aaron knew the pleased, curious undercurrent in its voice was completely real.


End file.
